


The Queen Mary

by amandateaches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Drowning, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Near Death Experiences, Near Drowning, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandateaches/pseuds/amandateaches
Summary: You, Sam, and Dean have just lucked into a case on board the famous Queen Mary, one of the nicest ships in the country, and also one of the most haunted. Will you be able to find the ghost behind all the recent accidents before it’s too late?





	The Queen Mary

**Author's Note:**

> This contains facts about the real-life haunting legends of the Queen Mary.

It only took seconds for the water to rush in, the force and coldness of it instantly shocking you to your core and pinning you down against the steel pipes lining the wall.

It was like getting hit by a truck. You tried to fight back, to swim out or scream for help, but it was impossible. The water was too strong, too cold, and it felt like a thousand knives were cutting into you, sapping your strength and trapping your breath.

In one last ditch effort, you called out Dean’s name, but the sound got carried away by the roar of the water as it filled the room. All you could do, before it covered you completely, was take a deep breath and close your eyes, sending up a silent prayer that, somehow, someway, Dean would find you in time, that he would save you.

But, in that moment, you knew.

This was it. This was how you were going to die.

7 hours earlier

You were standing on the edge of a wooden gangway, Sam and Dean by your side, as you gazed up at the colossal Queen Mary in front of you, its black siding stretching up as far as the eye could see. From where you were standing, you could just make out the huge red smokestacks reaching up from the white deck, practically touching the clouds, giving it an imposingly grand air.

“Wow…” you whispered breathlessly, completely blown away as you stared up at the magnificent ship. To you, it looked like it had been plucked straight out of a different time, a time of elegance and refinery. “It’s absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Dean snuck a quick glance at you and chuckled. “It? Don’t you mean she?”

You looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, an amused smile threatening the edges of your mouth. “She?”

“Yeah, she,” Dean asserted, his eyes lighting up. “A beauty like this deserves some respect, Y/N. She’s is a she, not an it.”

You rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean? Are you serious? I know you have a connection to the Impala, but you can’t real think…”

“Can you two focus please?” Sam muttered, interrupting you. His exasperation was clear as he rolled his eyes. “We’ve got a job to do here, remember?”

“Right, sorry, Sam,” you apologized, shooting Dean a look as he winked mischievously at you. “We’re totally focused. Can you give us the low down again?”

He sighed, but nodded. “The Queen Mary was a luxury ocean liner from the 30s that catered to the rich and famous. In World War II, it became a troopship, nicknamed “The Grey Ghost”, that ran missions all over the Atlantic. After the war, it sailed as a cruise ship again until 1967, when it was retired as a maritime museum and hotel right here in Long Beach, California after 1,001 voyages. To this day, it’s considered one of the most haunted places in America, with as many as 150 ghosts rumored to walk its halls.”

“Wait a second,” Dean interjected. “If there’s that many ghosts, why haven’t we heard about this before?”

“Up until now, all the reports were unconfirmed,” Sam answered, “but, apparently, after extensive refurbishment, they’ve cleared the Queen Mary for new sailings, the first in over 50 years, and they’ve been having some, uh, problems on the test runs.”

“Our kind of problems?” Dean asked, a knowing grin appearing on his face.

“I think so. There’ve been a bunch of unexplainable accidents along with reports of brand new lights flickering, stuff falling off shelves, hallways suddenly growing cold…”

“Ghosts,” Dean finished.

Sam nodded. “Yep. I think this refurbishment may have awakened a vengeful spirit who doesn’t want the ship sailing.”

“Has anyone died?” you asked.

“No,” Sam said, with a shake of his head. “There have been a few hospitalizations, including some serious ones, but no deaths. Even so, it seems that everyone on the project is pretty on edge about it. There were even talks of them cancelling this trip.”

“The first trip with guests…” you muttered, getting a nod from Sam.

“You know,” Dean said. “If the accidents were that bad on the test runs, I bet they’ll be even worse with all those guests on board.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Sam agreed, before he looked expectantly at you and Dean. “Which is why we’re going on board for the inaugural sailing.”

“Sweet,” Dean said, tossing an excited grin your way. “You think I’ll get a drink from Issac the Bartender?”

You laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him along. “You’re such a dork. Come on, let’s go.”

You dragged Dean down the gangway, in through the open deck hatch, and right into the expansive hotel lobby, with Sam on your heels the entire way. As soon as you crossed the threshold, he took over the lead, making his way to the front desk to check in under whatever assumed names he’d settled on for this trip.

You stopped, once again in awe, as you marvelled at the glisty lobby interior for a moment until you realized you were still holding Dean’s hand. Suddenly embarrassed, you quickly dropped it and looked down at the floor, missing the smile that came over Dean’s face as your cheeks blushed a bright red. But, before either of you could say anything, Sam walked back over, holding up two, old-fashioned looking room keys.

“All set. Where to first?”

Dean checked his watch. “We should take the ghost tour. It starts in 20 minutes.”

“Perfect timing, then,” you said, quickly brushing the awkwardness with Dean out of your mind and focusing on the case. “If we’re here to find a ghost, a ghost tour seems like the best place to start.”

With a plan in place, you and the boys split up, each of you making your way towards your separate rooms. You had just enough time to put your duffel bag down and splash some water on your face before making your way back to the lobby with just seconds to spare.

Sam and Dean were already waiting by the tour guide and they smiled as you approached. “Cutting it a little close there, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Shut up, Dean,” you laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm. “My room was further away and you know it.”

“Uh huh…” he mumbled mischievously, trailing off as the tour guide began to talk.

Sam and Dean’s full attention was on the guide, but your attention, as it so often was, was centered on the green-eyed hunter standing next to you. You watched as he quietly laughed at the guide’s corny jokes, his eyes crinkling whenever the corners of mouth softly curved.

It was so effortless, the way he made you feel. As your eyes ran over his gorgeous, scruff-coated face, you thought of all the reasons you had fallen in love with Dean: his bravery, his selflessness, his intelligence, his kindness, his humor, his passion. He was the whole damn package.

It’s just too bad you were afraid to tell him that.

Snapping back to the present, you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from Dean and focus on what the guide was saying. You had a case to solve, and getting distracted over a certain irresistible hunter wasn’t going to stop any ghosts.

“…and, now, we’ll be heading down to our first stop on the tour: the engine room. Fun fact: the Poseidon Adventure was filmed in that very engine room.”

“Cooolllll….” Dean exclaimed excitedly, drawing everyone’s attention and a glare from the tour guide. He shrugged an apology just as the guide cleared his throat.

“Um, yes,” he said, gesturing to some electric lanterns on a nearby table. “Now, you may want to pick up one of these on the way. It can get preee-tty creepy down there.”

“Wow,” Dean whispered, leaning down so only you could hear him. “You think we can handle all that creeeeeepy?”

You laughed out loud before quickly stifling it as the tour guide once again glared in your direction. Dean shot you a wink and grabbed one of the lanterns, letting you walk in front of him as you followed the group down to the engine room for the rest of the tour.

As the tour went on, you soon realized that, while the guide may have been a little over the top at first, he definitely knew his stuff about the ship hauntings, or “hauntings” as he called it, emphasis on the quotation marks. By the time the tour ended, you, Sam, and Dean were pretty much experts on all the ghosts of the Queen Mary.

As far as the three of you saw it, there were three potential otherworldly suspects for the recent accidents, but, the problem was, each of you had a different theory on which suspect was responsible.

“I think it’s the Lady in White,” you said, as soon as the three of you made it back to Sam and Dean’s room. “Think about it- she’s a beautiful woman, dressed in a formal, white evening gown, haunting the old first class lounge, and dancing by herself. Can you think of a more common vengeful spirit? Some guy probably broke her heart or, even worse, killed her.”

“Or maybe she’s just some random, lost spirit waiting for her own personal Jack Dawson,” Dean snarked. “Doesn’t exactly seem like the dangerous type. Now, John Pedder, that’s a different story. He was just 18 when he died, crushed by a watertight door during a freaking fire drill. Can you imagine taking a job in the engine room and getting killed? I’d sure as hell be out for revenge.”

“You want to talk about the dangerous type?” Sam asked. “What about the man from the first class stateroom, Cabin B340? He was actually murdered. Shot. It doesn’t get much more dangerous than that.”

You sighed and bit your lip before a thought occurred to you. “We’re never going to agree, so why don’t we split up?” you suggested. “We’ll each take our own suspect and see who’s right.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “And, what happens if one of us is right and they go up against a dangerous ghost with no back up?”

“We’ll carry walkie talkies. If one of us runs into trouble, we’ll call for help and the other two will come running.”

Sam looked over at Dean and shrugged. “It’s not a bad plan.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered sarcastically. “Not a bad plan until we get our asses in hot water. I don’t want Y/….I don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s too dangerous.”

Sam smiled to himself. “Dean, I know you’re worried, but I think Y/N’s right, this is our best option. We don’t have a lot of time to find the ghost before the accidents get worse. We need to rule out some suspects.”

You nodded and turned to Dean expectedly, giving him your best Sam-approved, puppy dog eyes. “Dean, nothing bad is going to happen, I promise. The second anyone runs into any trouble, we’ll pull back and call for help.”

Dean regarded you for a moment before sighing heavily and dropping his head. “Fine, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Noted,” you said with a smile. “Now, let’s go hunting.”

Despite your enthusiasm to get started, you knew you had to wait until midnight to start the search, when the boat would be the most empty and you’d have the most freedom to poke around.

The plan was simple. You were heading two decks up to the promenade, while both Sam and Dean were heading down, Sam to the B Deck and Dean to the engine room. You’d each check out your area and report in until you found the ghost. Quick and easy recognizance.

When midnight finally rolled around, you climbed the stairs quickly, hitting the Promenade Deck, before you switched on your walkie talkie.

“Hey, just checking in,” you whispered, “as per Dean’s orders.” You could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes at your snark from four decks away. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, Y/N, it’s good,” Dean answered, his voice already gruff with annoyance. “But, you don’t need to be so sarcastic about it.”

“Oh, yes, yes, I do,” you disagreed, softening it with a laugh. “Sam, how’re you?”

“Fine,” Sam whispered, some static following his voice, “but, I definitely think there’s something down here.”

That cut through your sarcasm in an instant. “Do you need us?”

“No, I don’t think so…” he said, just before more static cut him off.

“Sam? Sammy?” Dean yelled, his panic coming through loud and clear. “You good?”

There was a beat of silence that stopped your breath before Sam responded, his voice once again strong. “Yeah, it’s good, it’s good. Whatever’s down here, it doesn’t seem malicious. Just some pretty benign stuff- water running, lights flickering on, a phone ringing. It’s definitely messing with the walkie, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I’ll let you know when I get to B340.”

“Okay,” you answered, letting out a sigh of relief. “Dean?”

“Same here. I’m by the old swimming pools. I could’ve sworn I heard some splashing and laughing a second ago, but everything’s cool down here.”

“Okay,” you whispered back. You were about to switch the walkie off when Dean’s deep voice came back over the line.

“Hey…”

You paused, your breath once again catching in your throat. “Yeah?”

“Just, uh, just be careful, okay?”

You smiled, your breath coming out in a wave. “I will, Dean. You be careful too. Don’t go all cocky action hero on me, okay?”

The laugh you heard come through the walkie made your smile grow even wider. “Scout’s honor, Y/N.”

With that, you switched the walkie off, putting it in your front pocket where you could easily hear it and reach it. Pulling out your salt-loaded shotgun, you started down the hallway towards the first class lounge, moving slowly and deliberately.

The first room you passed through was the children’s nursery and playroom. The tour guide had claimed people heard the sounds of phantom children playing or crying in here, but, as you entered, all you heard was silence.

You paused for a second, turning your head from side to side to identify any sounds, but you heard nothing. “Some haunted playroom this is…” you grumbled as you continued into the hallway leading to the lounge.

The first class lounge was just a few feet away, so you tightened the hold on your shotgun and quickened your pace. But, as soon as you put your hand on the doorknob, a door slammed shut behind you, making you whirl around in surprise, your gun raised.

At first glance, there was no one behind you, but that only made the hair on the back of your neck stand up even more, especially when the hallway suddenly grew cold around you, a high pitched squeal sounding out from behind the closed door of the lounge.

Pulling out your walkie talkie, you quickly flipped it on, dropping your voice to a hushed whisper. “Dean? Sam?”

Sam’s voice came back to you, worry lacing his words. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah, for now at least, but there’s definitely something up here.”

“Okay, stay where you are. I’m already on my way to you.”

You didn’t have to wait very long before Sam came bounding full speed down the hallway, skidding to a stop when he reached you. “What happened? Did you find the spirit?”

“Maybe. I’m not 100% sure yet. I heard a door slam and a loud squeal, and I called you right away.”

“Okay,” he said, raising his gun and putting his hand on the doorknob. “Stay behind me.”

You nodded and raised your gun, mimicking Sam’s stance. On the count of three, he kicked open the door and the two of you rushed in, side-by-side, scanning the room.

“Anything?” you asked, keeping your back to Sam and your eyes on the lounge.

“Nope. Whatever was here seems to be gone now.”

You let out a sigh of relief and relaxed your stance. “Thank God,” you whispered. “A nice, disappearing ghost is always better than a vengeful one, if you ask me.”

Sam smiled and lowered his gun. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” he laughed. “That’s pretty much always Dean’s philosophy too.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach when it suddenly dawned on you that Dean was missing. “Wait a second. Where is Dean?”

Sam’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and he immediately pulled out his walkie. “Dean? You okay? Where are you?”

The only answer was silence.

“Dean?” you cried into your walkie, your panic growing. “Answer us. Are you okay?”

Nothing.

Sam looked down at you, the fear in his eyes scaring you more than any silence. “We gotta get down there. Now.”

By the time you and Sam had raced down the four decks to the engine room, a thousand different scenarios of what had happened to Dean had flashed through your mind, and none of them were good.

You were both screaming his name as you came upon the engine room’s Door 13, where John Pedder had died. Sam was a step ahead of you, and he wrenched the door open, yelling his brother’s name at the top of his lungs. “Dean! DEAN! Answer me!”

“Sammy…” A soft, pained voice came from the other side of the room, forcing you to spin around, where you saw Dean pinned up against the far wall.

“Dean!” You ran to him, your mouth dropping when you saw him splayed out against the wall, hovering a few inches above the ground. “Where’s the ghost?”

“Hell if I know,” he growled. “As soon as I walked in here, I got thrown up here like a fricken rag doll, but the son of a bitch is too much of a coward to show himself,” he added, yelling the last few words into the empty air.

Sam grabbed his arm and pulled, trying to get him down, but it was no use. “Well, bright side?”

Dean glared at him, giving his brother his best bitchface. “What, Sammy? What could possibly be the bright side here?”

Sam took a beat, grinning. “At least you were right about the ghost.”

Dean looked up to the sky and shook his head back and forth, rolling his eyes. “Not helping, Sammy.”

image  
“Okay, okay,” Sam admitted. “Let’s think for a second. You said you never saw the ghost, but it’s obviously here, so there’s something tying it to the engine room.”

You paused for a second, thinking. “Well, if it is John Pedder, the only thing really tying him here might be the way he died.”

Dean looked down at you, his smile reappearing. “The door.”

“The door,” you echoed, nodding. You turned around, pulling your salt and lighter out in the process, and started half walking, half running through the engine room. But, just as you neared the door, an invisible force pushed you back, sending you flying through the air with a scream.

“Y/N!!!!!!!!”

You tried to call out, but you hit the wall hard, the wind flying out of you. As you fell to the floor, you realized you had been thrown into a small room off the main engine room, a room full of pipes. You stood up gingerly, trying to make your way back to where Sam and Dean were still screaming your name, but as soon as you did, the door slammed shut on you, trapping you in.

“Dean!” you yelled, running to the door and banging on it. “Sam!”

“Hold on, Y/N,” Sam yelled from the other side. “We’re going to get you out.”

“Okay,” you whispered, but, just as you did, a nearby valve began to turn, all on its own. “Uh, guys?”

“Yeah?!” Dean yelled.

The vents on the wall opened up, sending a rush of water roaring into the room. “It’s a ballast tank! It’s filling with water. Dean!”

In a second, there was a frenzied banging on the other side of the door. “Son of a bitch! Y/N, hold on. Sam’s gonna burn that damn door and get rid of the ghost. Just hold on. We’re coming.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the water knocked you off balance, pushing you back into the wall where you hit the pipes, hard. It was coming full force now, cold and strong, pinning you down. You tried to yell out Dean’s name, but all you could hear were his panicked cries before the water filled up to your neck. You just had enough time to take a deep breath and close your eyes before the water covered you completely.

You were floating.

You’d expected when you went under that you would sink or feel tethered to the bottom, but instead you were floating, a weightlessness in the water that felt like you were just taking a swim on a nice, summer day.

Expect, this wasn’t a swim. The floating was never ending. You couldn’t break the surface of the water, and as the air started to burn in your lungs, it became harder and harder to try. Very quickly, everything started to feel far away, even the weightless floating, like you just couldn’t hold on…

“Breathe, Y/N, breathe!”

Suddenly, the weightlessness returned, but this time it was heavier, like the wearing off of a numbness.

“Damnit, Y/N, please. Breathe!”

You could hear him calling, and it feels like he’s just within reach. You just have to push through, to get to him.

“Come on, baby, breathe for me. Please. Please.”

And, then, you break through, coughing and sputtering, your lungs once again filling with air and your eyes opening to find Dean looking down at you, terrified.

“Dean?” you whispered, your voice still hoarse from the water. “Are you okay?”

His eyes widened then and he dropped his head, exhaling loudly. “Jesus, Y/N. Am I okay? Am I okay? You’re the one who almost drowned, you’re the one who almost…Jesus.”

You could see him shaking, so you reached up and placed your hand on his cheek, drawing his eyes towards yours. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

He looked at you for just a second before pulling you into his arms and crushing you towards his chest, his grip tight yet gentle. “Son of a bitch, Y/N, do you know how close you came? If I lost you…”

“Hey,” you whispered again, your voice now strong and sure. “You aren’t going to lose me, Dean. Ever.”

Dean tightened his grip even more, his hand intertwining in your hair, drawing comfort just from having you close. “You’re damn straight I won’t,” he whispered, before falling silent once again.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Any more talk could wait until later, but, for now, just being in his arms was enough.

After all, there was no place else you’d rather be.


End file.
